I Don't Care
by highwaytothe7hells
Summary: One-shot set years after the war. Winterfell has already been rebuilt by the remaining Starks, Arya among them. Bran is the King in the North. After finding Gendry at the Inn at the Crossroads, she convinces him to go to Winterfell with her and smith for Bran. Now she has to convince him about other sort of things…


**Summary:** One-shot set years after the war. Winterfell has already been rebuilt by the remaining Starks, Arya among them. Bran is the King in the North. After finding Gendry at the Inn at the Crossroads, she convinces him to go to Winterfell with her and smith for Bran. Now she has to convince him about other sort of things…

**Author's note:** So this is my first attempt in the Gendrya fandom… I'm afraid this is pretty lame, but I wanted to share it anyway. This is the 'improved' version of the one I posted on Tumblr a few days ago (I'm highwaytothe7hells over there, for those wondering... lol). English is not my first language, so please forgive any mistakes (but please feel free to let me know about them!).

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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**I DON'T CARE**

"This is ridiculous!"

Arya rose from her bed at once and wore her breeches and boots again. She needed to talk to Gendry, and she need to do it _now_. She left her chambers silently and made her way to the forge, making sure no one would notice her.

She was so frustrated! They had almost kissed earlier in the forge, and he had slipped away… again! It was not the first time, nor the second… Damn, she had already lost count of how many times he had slipped away from her!

Every time they were dangerously alone, Gendry would find a way to get out of the situation. They had come close to kissing several times, and in half of them he would always remember something urgent he needed to do, leaving her with her frustration. In the other half, they would be interrupted by something or someone.

She wouldn't give up though. She would have given up already if she felt she was being genuinely rejected, if she was sure he didn't feel for her the same way she felt for him… But she _knew_ he did. But he was too stubborn to let his feelings take control of his actions. She had a vague idea of why he was doing this, and, if she was proved right, she was going to make him change his mind. She knew what she wanted, and she would go for it.

"A… Arya?", he nearly jumped from his bed when she stormed into his room at the back of the forge, late at night. He was bare chested, so he stood up quickly and crossed the room to grab his tunic and wear it. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

His heart was hammering in his chest. He didn't expect her to come to his room this late. One part of him was happy she was there though. He enjoyed her presence, more than he should actually. He relished every second he spent with her, even without touching her, which he desperately wanted to do.

Ever since she found him at the Inn at the Crossroads and brought him to Winterfell, his feelings for her were not the same. He had been her friend when they were younger, and they went through a lot of things together… She was just a child then, and he had grown very fond of her, and he had suffered a lot when he thought she was dead. When she found him years later, he barely could believe his eyes. She was there, alive, a woman grown, and a skilled warrior. She was much taller now, and strong… and _so_ beautiful…

But it was not until he first heard talks about a lord wanting to marry her that he realized that his feelings for her had changed. He felt such a pain in his chest just to imagine her marrying someone else that he thought he would go crazy. But then he remembered who he was, and he knew he didn't even have the right to have such feelings. She was a highborn, and he was a bastard, and he needed to accept that she would have to get married at some point. And then he would probably never be allowed to see her again. That was how her noble world worked.

For a long time he had been sure she didn't feel the same for him. Trying to push his feelings away was proving to be a damn difficult task, but knowing she would never feel anything but friendship for a lowborn bastard anyway would eventually make things a little easier, he was sure. But then, one day, _she_ almost kissed _him_. And that was a shock. They were spending their free time together riding in the woods, and at one point they were just walking around, talking, while their horses were tied to a tree. She was finally beginning to tell him about her time in Braavos, and this led her to remember everything that happened during the war, and all her losses. She was opening her heart to him, and suddenly she was crying.

He had never seen her crying – in fact, he thought he would never see that – and it broke his heart. He didn't think twice before reaching out and taking his hand to her face, touching her cheek softly as he wiped her tears. Her teary eyes stared at him, and his heart lurched at how vulnerable she was. That was when he noticed her gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips before she started closing the little distance between them. He felt a rush in his blood and panicked. He knew what she was about to do. And then he averted his eyes and turned around, saying it was getting late and they had to go back. He didn't face her again until they were in the castle, but he could feel her frustration, and it matched his own.

This almost-kiss situation would repeat itself many, many times, and in many different ways, and in all of them he would stop it before even acknowledging to her what was going on between them. It was getting harder and harder to play the stupid and pretend nothing was happening; it was getting impossible not to kiss her in those moments.

Now she was in his room, with a determined look in her face, and he was afraid of what she was up to. Actually he was afraid of himself. He had barely recovered from their last almost kiss, the most difficult one to stop so far, and there she was, threatening his already weak self-control.

"We need to talk."

"And it has to be now?"

"Yes."

"Okay…" he sighed, knowing she wouldn't leave him in peace if she didn't say whatever she wanted to say. "What do you want to talk about?"

She closed the door and locked it before turning around to face him again.

"Us."

Gendry's eyes widened in shock. He knew she was growing impatient, but he didn't think she would actually confront him about it. But before he could say anything, she started walking towards him.

"Gendry, I'm tired of you running away from me", she said at once. Her voice was soft, and he could swear he saw a bit of shyness cross her face.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about" he said, starting to walk backwards.

"Yes, you do." She took a deep breath. "Do you think I don't notice the way you look at me, and the way you hold your breath when I'm too close to you, and the way your face goes all red when you see me wearing a dress?"

Her own face was turning red. She had never been so bold in her entire life – at least not when it came to romantic issues. Actually, that was her first romantic issue… She had never allowed herself to be romantically involved with anyone. Well, she never _wanted_ to be romantically involved with anyone… and she assumed she would never want. Until she met Gendry again…

It took her quite a long time to admit to herself that she no longer saw him as a friend. And it took her an even longer time to notice that her feelings were not one sided. When she realized he was not going to make any move, her impatience grew stronger than her shyness, and she decided she would have to be the one taking action.

"I… I really don't know wh-what you're tal-talking about…"

"Of course you know. You're already turning red…" she said, stepping towards him again, as he stepped back.

"Be-because you're making me angry! I'm tired, I want to sleep, and you're disturbing me!" he said, trying to sound annoyed, but failing.

"Your voice is hardly angry, Gendry…" she said, smiling, still walking towards him.

He would have stepped back again if he hadn't just reached the edge of his bed. He suddenly forgot how to breathe.

"See what I said about holding your breath?"

Before he could say anything else, she placed her hands firmly on his broad shoulders and pushed him down, making him sit, and immediately straddled over him on the bed, keeping him in place. She could say he was starting to panic, and then she gently grabbed his face with both hands and stared deeply into his eyes. He took a deep breath.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he asked in a low voice, sounding almost defeated.

"Why are _you_ doing this to _us_?"

"Arya, we can't…" he said weakly, his voice barely a whisper.

"Why not?"

"You're a highborn, you're a lady… And I'm just a bastard… an uneducated, lowborn bastard…"

"I don't care."

"But your brother will care… And I'm willing to keep my head attached to my body."

"He would never do this to you. He would never do this to _me_."

"But… What about all that talk I heard about you marrying a lord?"

"People talk too much", she said, sounding annoyed. "There was a lord that wanted to wed me… Bran even thought it would be a good match, but I refused. I made it clear that I wouldn't marry any lord. I won't marry anyone because of titles or to join stupid houses. I made it clear that if I was to be married off, I would leave Winterfell and go back to Braavos."

"But…"

"Gendry, I don't care about any of that. I care about my freedom. I always dreaded to be a lady, you know that, and I always dreaded to be told what to do. I think that everything I went through gave me the right to make my own choices. I don't give two shits to what people will think."

"Arya…"

"I don't care if you're a bastard, I don't care if you're lowborn… You're a good man, a just and honorable man, with a golden heart. In my eyes, no lord can ever be better than you. I don't care about what other people value… You have everything that _I_ value. That's what matters to me."

"But I've disappointed you once. I left you when you most needed me."

"You did leave me… and for a long time I hated you for that, I have to admit. But now I understand that you did what you needed to do. You wanted to survive as much as I wanted, but you didn't have a name to rely on, while I was a Stark of Winterfell. I couldn't keep being so selfish," she said sincerely, her eyes locked on his.

They stared at each other silently for a few seconds.

"Gendry… I…"

Before she could say whatever she was about to say, he wrapped his arms around her waist and crashed his lips against hers. She let out a sigh and returned the kiss passionately, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling his body even closer to hers. She slid her tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss, and moaned at his eager response.

The kiss was even better than she had ever imagined. And she had waited so long for it… The sensation of finally feeling his lips on hers was crazy, the hotness of his tongue exploring her mouth and sending waves of pleasure throughout her body. The waves suddenly intensified, as he had started to move his hands up and down her back, slowly.

Eventually they broke the kiss, gasping for air, and she rested her forehead on his.

"You wanted this kiss as much as I wanted it, didn't you?" she whispered, half-smiling.

"Yes, I did…", he admitted with a grin.

"Then why were you always running away from me?"

"Because I didn't want to know the taste of your lips, I didn't want to feel what I'm feeling now, just to see you ending up marrying some bloody lord. We can't miss what we never had, you know."

"You don't need to worry about that. No one will ever tell me what to do and whom to marry. And no one will ever stop me from having what I want… And I want you..."

Arya kissed him again, running her hands through his hair, and she smiled against his lips when she heard a low groan escaping from his mouth. He tightened his grip around her waist, and then his lips went from her mouth to her neck, causing her to moan.

Her scent and her taste were intoxicating his senses, and he was sure he would never be able to live without this from now on. It was even better than in his dreams… He always tried to avoid imagining how it would feel to kiss her, so that he could control himself around her, but he couldn't control his dreams… Several times he would wake up in the middle of the night, sweating, having just dreamed of her. And in his dreams they would often share much more than feverish kisses…

His lips went from her neck to her earlobe, and he bit it gently, before sucking it while his hands found his way underneath her tunic, traveling over the soft skin of her back. She was gasping softly and moaning, and the sounds she was making were nearly sending him over the edge. And then he pulled away, facing her again.

"You should go…", he said huskily, not really meaning it.

"Why?"

"Because if you don't leave right this minute, I won't let you leave at all…", he smirked.

"I don't care…"

She smiled and kissed him again. He didn't protest, as he already didn't have any intention of letting her leave anyway.

Nor sleep, for that matter.

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**So... please tell me what you think! :)**


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